


I'm No Sweet Dream But I'm a Hell of a Night

by jynx



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Maybe - Freeform, PWP, Party Like It's 1999, porn with a little plot, salt shaker kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:52:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: It's been ten years since Obi-Wan last saw his ex-lover and Master but now he's back to help with an investigation. Now Obi-Wan just needs to show Qui-Gon blasted Jinn that he's been just fine without him for the past ten years.





	I'm No Sweet Dream But I'm a Hell of a Night

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for this goes to the QuiObi Discord! For the idea and for listening to me whine and helping me beta this. I forget everyone who looked at this thing. D: Hey look! Porn that didn't take me several months to write!!
> 
> Title from Halsey's "Nightmare"

Obi-Wan stayed perfectly still as Qui-Gon strode into the center of the Council room. It wasn’t fair for that man to look so good. It had been ten years since Obi-Wan had last seen his Master and former lover and most of that had been spent with the older man pointedly, coldly ignoring him as Obi-Wan packed his things and left their formerly shared room. Obi-Wan had his missions and he supposed Qui-Gon did as well, although it was a kindness that their paths had never crossed. 

Until now. 

Obi-Wan glanced at Mace Windu, who was pointedly _not_ looking at him. That sly bastard. He was going to do something nasty to Mace’s tea the next chance he got. 

“Masters of the Council,” Qui-Gon said with a stiff bow. “You recalled me.” 

They had? Obi-Wan tried not to sigh. Oh, that had not gone over well and it was clear that Qui-Gon was still furious over it. 

“Thank you for humoring us,” Mace said. He shifted slightly in his chair and tilted his head at Obi-Wan. What? Oh, no, no. No. He wanted nothing to do with this! “During the course of another’s investigation it was found that your mission would be better worked in tandem.” 

He was going to poison Mace Windu. And no one would ever know it was him. He sat in his chair, his legs crossed, and kept his hands on the arms of his chair. He projected an air of absolute calm while he seethed internally. Mace was going to pay for this. There was no way anything Qui-Gon Jinn had been working on would have any impact on his work! 

“And which work would that be?” Qui-Gon asked, straightening. He kept his face blank but Obi-Wan could see the tightening around his eyes; he was just as displeased by this little maneuver as Obi-Wan was. 

Well, fuck it. 

“My work,” Obi-Wan said, raising his chin. It was none of Qui-Gon’s business who, and what, he had become after the older man had dissolved their partnership and rejected him, for the last time. 

Qui-Gon paused but nodded. “I see,” he said, voice several degrees cooler. “Is there a particular reason we are being required to work together?” 

“Who said anything about working together?” Obi-Wan demanded. 

Qui-Gon glanced at Mace before clearing his throat. “I had been...instructed to prepare to work with another regarding my discoveries.” 

Obi-Wan slowly turned his head to look at Mace. “Oh, were you?” he asked mildly, eyes narrowing on Mace. 

Mace, Force bless all fools, merely arched an eyebrow at him as his lips twitched. He was so blasted lucky they were all being official. “Weren’t you just complaining about how you needed an extra set of hands for this project? That it was getting possibly too big for just you?” 

Obi-Wan inhaled through his nose and let it go. Let all of it go. This level of manipulation he would have expected from Yoda, not Mace. That betrayal stung just the slightest bit. 

“The two of you have been chasing different leads that lead to the same subject of Aurra Sing,” Mace said. “It makes sense for the two of you to simply work together to solve the puzzle.” 

Obi-Wan tried not to sink down in his seat. There was no ‘simply’ about this. 

“You know very well this won’t be two old friends ‘simply’ working together,” Qui-Gon said. He squared his shoulders. “But I will defer to the Council’s wishes in this matter.” Oh, he would, would he? “I’ll gather my notes. Shall we reconvene in your rooms, Master Kenobi, after evening meal?” 

That heartless bastard. “That will be fine,” Obi-Wan said, smiling sweet poison back at him. “Though, why don’t we discuss this over dinner instead. I would _so_ love to catch up with my old Master.”  


Qui-Gon’s eyes flashed at the challenge as he bowed and left, a stiffness to his walk that hadn’t been there before. Good. If Obi-Wan was going to be uncomfortable then by the Force so would Qui-Gon blasted Jinn. 

= 

Obi-Wan arranged for dinner in his rooms, after he had backed Mace into a corner and hissed his...appreciation for this opportunity at him. Mace, blast him, had been smirking the whole time. Obi-Wan knew where Mace slept and he was not afraid to use the knowledge for possible evil. There were always Padawans about, looking to get into mischief, who would be all too eager to break into the Master of the Order’s rooms to prank him. 

His rooms, while not a Master-Padawan apartment, were still rather nice. He had the benefit of his position, not just on the Jedi High Council, but from the job he had taken over. It was a little ironic, he figured, as he set the table, that this was almost an exact replica of the last meal they had had together almost ten years ago. He had even, viciously, lit candles and chilled a bottle of wine. 

Let it never be said that he was a poor host. 

When Qui-Gon arrived, Obi-Wan was only too happy to smile and let him in. The older man had paused before entering. 

“You changed,” Qui-Gon said. 

Obi-Wan arched a brow. “Why, yes, I have changed my clothes,” he said. He had wanted out of the stiff tunics he wore for his official meetings and into a sleeveless tunic that was more comfortable and with a greater range of motion. “But if you mean I’ve changed in other ways, that is none of your concern.” 

Qui-Gon’s lips thinned and he looked around. “These are...nice.” 

“You were abysmal at small talk ten years ago and you’re abysmal at it still. Let’s eat and discuss your findings,” Obi-Wan said. He gestured to the kitchen where the long counter that doubles as his table and desk had been set. “Wine, or tea?” 

Qui-Gon’s eyes were narrowed as he watched him. “Wine.” 

Obi-Wan smirked. “Need a little bracing, do we?” he asked as he went into the kitchen proper and pulled the wine from the icebox. He could hear Qui-Gon spluttering behind him and he let himself smirk as he poured them glasses. He turned and handed Qui-Gon his wine. “May I take your cloak?” 

“Why are you acting like this?” Qui-Gon asked, shedding his cloak and defiantly tossing it over the back of his own chair. Not that Obi-Wan truly cared what he did with it. 

“Like…?” Obi-Wan prompted. 

“Cold,” Qui-Gon said. 

Obi-Wan shrugged and sipped his own wine. It had been a gift from some politician, if he wasn't mistaken, and while strong it also had a decent flavor. “Wasn’t that your accusation all those years ago? I was too cold for you, too unfeeling and repressed. You wanted someone—‘more’? I believe your term was. Dinner?” 

“So this wasn’t your idea,” Qui-Gon said, toying with his glass before taking a sip. 

“Hardly,” Obi-Wan muttered as he sat down at the counter and waited for Qui-Gon to do the same. He had arranged it so they were opposite each other, rather than the usual arrangement of side-by-side that the chairs normally were. Obi-Wan didn't think he could deal with that right now. “You can thank, or curse, Mace for that.” He started plating the dishes and handed the first plate to Qui-Gon as the other man sat down. “We do have a lot to talk about. Your investigation into Aurra Sing is tied to my ongoing investigations into active darksiders and corruption charges.” 

Qui-Gon frowned. “Your investigation?” he asked. 

“Yes, my investigation,” Obi-Wan said, helping himself to the rest of the food. He glanced at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eye as he began to eat. “Surely you’ve put it together by now? You are not a stupid man.” 

Qui-Gon slowly began to eat his meal while Obi-Wan waited. He had meant it as a compliment, as backhanded as it was. Qui-Gon was very intelligent, when he bothered to look at the whole picture and not just the immediate moment. That was honestly where they had differed so often. 

Qui-Gon wanted fiery passion at all times, burning like a bonfire against the darkness of the Galaxy. Obi-Wan was more content to let his flames sleep until stoked, spreading his focus out amongst many different points all at once until someone called him back to the here and now. Differences in philosophy and lifestyles had caused everything to fall apart. Force knew how long Obi-Wan had spent going over every moment to figure out why and that, sadly, was the only thing he could come up with. 

So they would have dinner and Qui-Gon would see that Obi-Wan was just fine without him. He had been fine for ten years and just because Mace had decided to stick his fingers where they weren’t wanted he was going to have to show Qui-Gon how fine he’d be after he left this time as well. Force but he was looking forward to the payback he was going to serve to Mace. It would have to be calculated and cunning, so the other man never saw it coming, and hopefully public. 

“You are the new Master of Shadows,” Qui-Gon said eventually when dinner was almost half-gone. 

“Hardly new,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ve been the Master of Shadows for four years now. Do try to keep up.” 

“What makes you think you can just insult me--” 

“That’s hardly insulting,” Obi-Wan said as he reached for his wine. “If I wanted to be insulting I have years of material to draw on. Or, we could get personal, and I could call you a cold-hearted bastard and throw away twelve years of a good working partnership and seven years of what I thought was a wonderful relationship. But then, insulting was always your style, wasn’t it? You certainly excelled at it.” 

Qui-Gon set his fork down and did his best to look down his nose at Obi-Wan. After years of not only being his Padawan but then also his working partner and his lover, it hardly had the desired effect. Obi-Wan arched his own brow and sipped his wine as he leaned back in his chair. 

“What do you want from me?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Your report,” Obi-Wan said, letting the smile spread across his lips. “You do work for me, you know.” In a roundabout way, almost every Jedi running about worked for him, whether they knew it or not. 

“Do I now?” Qui-Gon asked blankly. 

“I could just confiscate all your work, reports, notes, and anything else I feel like,” Obi-Wan said, unable to help the smirk. He had minions who would take great delight in going through Qui-Gon Jinn’s belongings for whatever it was that Obi-Wan wanted. “You are technically working an investigation best left to the Shadows, and those who know how to handle that sort of thing.” 

“I think I know how to handle a Sith,” Qui-Gon said, matching his mild tone. 

Obi-Wan set his glass down, harder than he had intended, and worked to breathe through his sudden anger. He refused to take that bait. “Sing is hardly a Sith,” he said flatly. That had been a low blow and not an appreciated one. “Dangerous, all the same, and involved in far too many plots than I want to consider at this time. If you decide you cannot work with me, well. We’ll just tell Mace that it was a good effort but we all know you prefer to flit about the Galaxy like some great, brooding bat all by yourself.” 

Qui-Gon snorted out a laugh. “I am hardly a bat,” he said. 

“I can think of worse things to call you,” Obi-Wan muttered as he picked his wine up again and drained the glass. “Now, shall we finish dinner and then--” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Qui-Gon said. “You seemed happy enough but it was only in our rooms that you bothered to--” 

“You do not want to start down this path, Jinn,” Obi-Wan said, setting down his glass and picking up his fork and knife. He needed to eat. If he didn’t keep a certain weight on his frame and Vokra Che noticed it would be his neck on the line and he rather liked his neck. He had been told it was one of his most attractive features when someone didn't want to wring it. 

“And why not?” Qui-Gon demanded. “Maybe I should have gone down it--” 

“Well maybe you should have!” Obi-Wan snapped, letting his utensils fall to the table with a clatter. “But that was ten years ago. Ten! The whole situation is over and done with and--” 

“Oh, it’s done with, is it?” Qui-Gon mocked. “Then why are you letting me under your skin?” 

“You’re not getting under or into anything of mine ever again,” Obi-Wan hissed as he got to his feet with a screech of his chair. He put his hands on the counter and leaned in over the candles to glare at Qui-Gon. “You gave up the right when you decided to be a pigheaded, ignorant, selfish bastard who thought only of--” 

Obi-Wan let out a startled _mph!_ of shock as Qui-Gon surged to his feet and yanked him into a kiss. He was too stunned to stop the other man from pulling him-- _over the counter!_ \--and into his lap. Damn the man and his height and reach and, and--just damn him in general. Obi-Wan tried not to melt into the kiss, remembering the last time he’d been kissed by this mouth, and instead pulled away to grab Qui-Gon by the jaw. 

“If you think for a moment--” 

Qui-Gon started laughing as he reached up to pull Obi-Wan’s hand off his face. “This is what I missed,” he said, expression almost bordering on sappy. He kept Obi-Wan pinned against his chest with one arm and judicious use of the Force, as Qui-Gon cupped his face. “You, being the very embodiment of fire.” 

“If you don’t let me go right this second, I’ll show you _fire_ ,” Obi-Wan spat. 

“I don’t see you struggling to get free,” Qui-Gon said. He loosened his grip and the feeling of the Force fell away. “Are you so mad at me that you cannot understand why I did what I did?” 

“It would have made sense if you had merely tried to infuriate me and then pissed off for a year or so before you came crawling back to beg forgiveness,” Obi-Wan said, shifting his weight to more comfortably straddle the other’s lap. “Ten years? Ten years says a lot more than you were just playing games. Ten years says you meant it.” 

“And if I did?” Qui-Gon asked, hands settling on Obi-Wan’s hips. 

“If you did then you would be wise to remove your hands from my body before I remove them for you,” Obi-Wan said with a scowl. Why did he allow Qui-Gon to continue to have this hold on him? It was dreadfully inconvenient and infuriating. Just like the man. 

Qui-Gon leaned in. “And if I was being sent on mission after mission as obvious punishment for making you mad?” 

Obi-Wan barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “I would call bullshit on you. No one makes you do anything you don’t want to do.” 

“You used to,” Qui-Gon said. “You used to enjoy making me consider uncomfortable positions.” 

Obi-Wan stared at him, eyes wide. He… Had he just? No. He couldn’t have. Could he? “You bastard,” he whispered. “You can’t just say things like that and, and expect to get away with it.” 

“Why not?” Qui-Gon asked, a smug curl to his lips. 

“Because I still want to punch your face in!” Obi-Wan snapped, pushing at Qui-Gon’s chest. 

The older man caught his wrists and pulled him in so they were nose-to-nose. “And I still want to fuck you until you can’t walk,” he said. “But I haven’t given into the urge, have I?” 

Obi-Wan felt his breath catch in his chest. He could feel the Force practically crackling around them with possibilities and gave in with a growl, slamming his mouth down against Qui-Gon’s. He would punch him after sex. It had been a long time since someone had touched him and stradling Qui-Gon’s lap where he could feel how _interested_ the other was while being angry enough to spit was apparently all the incentive he needed to do something reckless. Like give the giant idiot another chance. 

Qui-Gon growled and stood, sending the chair screeching backwards, before bearing Obi-Wan down on the counter--that he had apparently cleared with the Force. Obi-Wan broke the kiss and snuffed the candles Qui-Gon had ignored before an actual fire started, and moaned as Qui-Gon’s mouth settled on his neck. The food, the wine, was all over his clean floors and he would be damned if he didn’t make Qui-Gon pick up every crumb and shard of crockery he had just broken. 

After. 

After Obi-Wan finally got what he had been missing for the last ten years. And if that man didn’t hurry up and start taking clothes off soon then Qui-Gon would find out just how much he’d changed. 

“Why do you still taste so good?” Qui-Gon murmured against his flesh. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as he started grabbing at the other's clothes. He didn't want pretty words. He wanted Qui-Gon to fuck him so then he could kick him out. He couldn't stand the way the way the slightest touch from his old lover had lit him up inside like no other had since. It was awful, remembering how good that had been only to know he couldn't trust Qui-Gon to actually stay. Not that he wanted Qui-Gon to stay; he didn't, he just wanted the other to...to... 

“Clothes,” Obi-Wan ordered as he scooted up the edge of the counter. The man pulled away and was rapidly divesting himself of his tunics, for once _listening_ to what Obi-Wan told him. How absolutely novel. 

He let himself look, just for a moment, and licked his lips. There were new scars, marks of a life lived with no one to watch his back, but Qui-Gon was still unfairly attractive and in amazing shape. Obi-Wan started pulling at his own clothes and letting them fall to the floor. He reached for the band of his leggings only to have his wrists grabbed and pulled away. 

“Allow me?” Qui-Gon asked with a smile. 

“Be my guest,” Obi-Wan said as he reclined on the counter. 

But then Qui-Gon’s mouth was on his abdomen and those warm, clever fingers were teasing their way under his waistband. He'd forgotten, somehow, although maybe it was for the preservation of his sanity so he wouldn't uselessly pine for something he could never have again, how good it felt to have Qui-Gon mouth on him. He arched against that teasing tongue and curled a leg around Qui-Gon's knees, applying the slightest pressure to make Qui-Gon have to grab the ledge of the counter for balance. 

“Less playing, more fucking,” Obi-Wan said with a glare. 

“Bossy,” Qui-Gon said as he straightened. 

“I'm your boss,” Obi-Wan said with a smirk as he stretched, perhaps making more of a spectacle of himself than he normally would. “So stop fucking around and do something already before I remember why this is such a bad idea and kick you out.” 

“Would you really kick me out?” Qui-Gon asked as he finally pushed Obi-Wan’s leggings down his legs, palms hot over skin gone too sensitive. It felt wonderful, not having his cock trapped by the fabric of his leggings anymore, but somehow it also made everything just the slightest bit more real. “Haven't you missed me, even a little?” 

“Why would I miss you?” Obi-Wan demanded, propping himself up on his elbows. “What would I even miss? The snoring, needing to pick up all your tea cups--” 

“You are just as bad as I am for forgetting you have tea to drink,” Qui-Gon said with a disarming smile. “Worse, I'd suspect, now that you don't have anyone to mind you.” 

Obi-Wan scowled at him. The assumption! Not that he was wrong, but the sheer fact he would assume that Obi-Wan had stayed unattached was infuriating. “What do you think I've been doing these past ten years? Waiting and pining for you? You should know me better than that, Qui-Gon.” 

A dark look crossed his former Master's face. “Who?” he asked in that deceptively calm voice, hands sliding up Obi-Wan's legs to his sides. 

“No one that is any of your concern,” Obi-Wan said primly, biting back a hiss as Qui-Gon’s hands moved up his chest. Thumbs rubbed tantalizing close to his nipples. “You not only left but you _hurt_ me. You lost any right to be jealous.” 

“I will never stop being jealous at the idea of other people touching you,” Qui-Gon said, leaning over to cover Obi-Wan with his body. 

“Then be jealous,” Obi-Wan said in a fit of pique. “I had fun replacing you.” 

Qui-Gon pulled back, a look of shock on his face. Obi-Wan had a moment to feel victorious over a hit finally landing when the other man pulled him flush against his chest and nuzzled the sensitive skin behind his ear. “I promise I can make you forget anyone else.” 

“You're not that good,” Obi-Wan said automatically, half tempted to give in and half tempted to make Qui-Gon work for it. Not that there was much working to be done when they were both almost fully naked. Well, he was. Qui-Gon still had his leggings on which was unfairly rude of him. 

Qui-Gon growled and Obi-Wan tried not to shiver as hands slid down his back to-- 

The wall comm sounded an alert and Obi-Wan was shoving Qui-Gon away on pure reflex. He slid to the floor between Qui-Gon and the counter and darted to the comm, dipping down to grab his shirt as he did so. He ignored Qui-Gon and his useless swearing as he made it to the comm, wincing as his cock expressed its displeasure at being interrupted. He ignored it, as he ignored every idle thing that got in his way these days. 

“Kenobi,” he said, killing the video feed before it could connect. 

“That took you far longer than I thought it would,” Mace said. “Was I interrupting something?” 

“Yes, my secret plot to murder you in public,” Obi-Wan said as he leaned against the wall. He could still hear Qui-Gon but he had his back to the other man. He should have grabbed his leggings, not his shirt. What use was a damned shirt? It was hardly a decent shield against hands and, and… He was also assuming Qui-Gon would want to pick up with him again now that the bubble of lust had broken. 

“I wanted to make sure you were still interested in a sparring session before I booked the room,” Mace said. “Unless you’re going to be too busy?” 

Obi-Wan felt himself deflate. A spar sounded wonderful. “You keep me busy enough and you know it. Usual time and room?” 

“I’ll even treat you to tea afterwards,” Mace said with a chuckle. 

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at the comm unit. “If it is that joke they try and pass off--” 

“Depa recently received a shipment from Chalacta,” Mace said. 

“Oh, you beautiful bastard,” Obi-Wan breathed. “You got some for me?” 

“And deny you the joy of stealing it yourself? I know better.” 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the delighted cackle that slipped loose. “I will see you, and that fantastic tea, tomorrow then!” 

“Do let me know if you need to cancel,” Mace said, a touch of smugness to his voice. “I won’t be that upset.” 

Obi-Wan disconnected the comm rather than answer. He now had confirmation that Mace was a matchmaking son of a Sith and would exact his revenge as he saw fit. 

“A question, if I might,” Qui-Gon asked into the ensuing silence. 

“Just one?” Obi-Wan asked, not yet turning around. 

“Was Mace my replacement?” Qui-Gon asked, stepping up behind him and settling his hands on Obi-Wan’s hips. “Did you go to him after I left and let him take you to bed? Is that the reason he kept me away?” 

Obi-Wan was too stunned by the accusation to do anything more than laugh. He leaned back against Qui-Gon, laughing too hard to keep his feet. Him and Mace? The very idea was, well, laughable. “Mace kept you away because he knew if I saw you before I was ready that I would murder you and no one would ever find the body,” Obi-Wan said once he could talk through his mirth. “He was being a good friend, as he always has been.” 

“Quinlan?” Qui-Gon asked, leaning down to brush kisses along Obi-Wan’s neck. 

“No,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, tilting his head to the side. “This is driving you mad, isn’t it? Who could possibly have caught my eye after what we had together, right? You’re just so...memorable.” 

“Garen?” Qui-Gon asked. “There was that healer that was always far too interested in your health--” 

Obi-Wan snorted and pulled away from him. It was better to come clean than have Qui-Gon come up with more and more ridiculous people for him to have possibly been interested in. “I was trying to make you jealous,” he said as he faced Qui-Gon, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Qui-Gon blinked at him before smiling. “There was no one else?” he asked. 

“I’m regretting that decision every time you open your mouth but no, there wasn’t,” Obi-Wan said with a roll of his eyes. He was hardly a possession for Qui-Gon to keep or claim, but he understood the same sting of jealousy. It was hardly Jedi-like of him but then he had never been as good a Jedi as people thought he was. He looked away from Qui-Gon and leaned back against the wall, fixing his eyes at some spot on the floor near Qui-Gon’s hand. “So I suppose you were right after all. Without you around I didn’t care about personal wants or needs. Sex has hardly ever been high on my priority list.” 

“Instead you’ve become the Master of Shadows,” Qui-Gon said, reaching out to cup Obi-Wan’s chin and smiled at him. “I was wrong, ten years ago. Just because your fire is different than mine does not make it any less wonderful.” 

Obi-Wan stared at him. “I can’t decide if I want to tell you to get out or drag you to the bedroom.” 

“I, personally, would prefer the bedroom,” Qui-Gon said with a tiny smile. 

Obi-Wan huffed out a sigh and gave into a desire he had been harboring for ten years. He punched Qui-Gon--not in the face or the gut, as much as he would have liked to--no, he punched him in meat of his shoulder hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps. “You, you think you can just apologize and be charming and I’ll be happy to hop back into bed with you? Who do you think I am? Your Padawan again, not knowing any better than to hang on your--” 

Qui-Gon dragged him into a kiss to silence him. 

Obi-Wan froze, tempted to hit him again, but then Qui-Gon pulled him in close, so close, and he couldn’t help but simply say: Fuck it. 

He buried his hands in Qui-Gon's hair and kissed him hungrily. He barely let the other man pull back for a breath before he was dragging him in again, nipping at his bottom lip in warning, and demanded in a way he hadn't before. Was that the problem? That he had been so content to let Qui-Gon lead that it had become an issue? He had just been happy to have the other man with him as the flitted about the Galaxy on missions, especially after the Naboo fiasco. If the whole problem had been that Qui-Gon hadn't felt wanted, or needed, then he'd be damned if he didn't use this chance to show the stubborn bantha that he was wanted, needed, and lusted after. 

“Bedroom,” Qui-Gon said as he finally managed to break the kiss, sounding breathless and looking decidedly rumpled. Obi-Wan licked his lips at the sight and grinned. “Now, before I have you against the wall. I don't know where you have anything.” 

“You would have if you hadn't been an idiot,” Obi-Wan couldn't resist pointing out. He took Qui-Gon's hand and lead him toward the bedroom. 

“Yes, yes, I was an idiot,” Qui-Gon said. “I will do my best to make it up to you.” 

Obi-Wan hesitated as, once they were actually in his bedroom, Qui-Gon pulled him into another spine-searing kiss. Had he just agreed to take the fool back? He didn't think he had but, well. Would that really be so bad? He had missed their arguments--Mace and Quin were bad substitutes for Qui-Gon's pigheadedness or his quick wit--as much as he had missed the way Qui-Gon held him at night. He'd even missed the godsawful snoring after the first few months of utter silence. 

“What?” Qui-Gon asked, breaking the kiss to cup his face. “Ben?” 

Obi-Wan bit his lip and ran his hands over Qui-Gon's chest, fingers picking out the new scars and touching them gently. “One night isn't going to fix ten years of silence or the memory of your words. I'm possibly willing to let you try to change my mind but it's not going to happen instantly. I've changed and I'm sure you have too.” 

“There is no try,” Qui-Gon said with a determined look. 

Obi-Wan stared at him. “Yeah, let's shut you up before you say anything else stupid,” he said, pulling Qui-Gon back into a kiss. The other man, Force blast him, was laughing against his lips as Obi-Wan moved them toward the bed. He pushed the fool on the bed and knelt down to undo his boots. “You are not allowed to bring that troll up and kill a perfectly good mood.” 

“Oh, I don't know,” Qui-Gon said as he sat up. “You still look interested in the situation.” 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes; yes, he still had an erection and he would greatly like to do something about it with the infuriating man on his bed but it wasn't like he didn't have two hands or plenty of toys at this point. “Well aren't you lucky?” he asked as he removed Qui-Gon's footwear and stood up. “Get your own pants off.” 

“You don't want to undress me?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“I already know what I'm getting,” Obi-Wan said blithely as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. “I'm more interested in getting your hands on me and inside me. But if you want to continue to play games we can do that too.” 

Qui-Gon blinked at him before moving to quickly rid himself of his remaining clothing. “You've gotten more…” The other man cleared his throat and stood, naked and in all his glory, before him. “I like it.” 

Obi-Wan tried not to smile, he really did. “So glad you approve. It wasn't like I was going to change just because you didn't like who I've become.” 

“No?” Qui-Gon asked, his own smile starting. He pulled Obi-Wan close, large hand warm against the small of his back. “And what would you have done? Hit me again?” 

“Told you that you knew where the door was,” Obi-Wan said. He tipped his head back and arched an eyebrow. “I'm naked, you're naked, you planning on doing something about that or are you going to just stand here admiring the scenery?” 

“You are very attractive scenery,” Qui-Gon said. His hands slowly moved up along Obi-Wan’s back, mapping muscles and tracing old scars as he went. Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders in annoyance as that was all he did. “You don't want to be worshipped, do you?” 

“Not particularly,” Obi-Wan said. “I always hated when you decided you needed to treat me like something precious. I'm human, Qui, I make mistakes and fuck up.” 

“So do I,” Qui-Gon said softly. 

“Shocking,” Obi-Wan drawled, drawing out the word. He gasped in surprise as Qui-Gon picked him up, hands gripping his ass. “What are you doing?” he demanded. 

“I would have thought that was obvious,” Qui-Gon said as he walked the few steps to dump Obi-Wan on the bed. “I'm doing what you asked.” 

“That'd be a monumental first,” Obi-Wan said as he scooted back on the mattress. 

Qui-Gon chuckled and went to Obi-Wan’s nightstand, poking around in it. Obi-Wan watched him in amusement as the man kept looking and didn't find what he was looking for, a little frown furrowing his brow. With a grin, Obi-Wan hit a panel on his headboard to release the hidden drawer where he kept his lube and the toy he currently was enamored with...and a spare set of knives. One could never be too prepared. 

He cleared his throat and wiggled the bottle at Qui-Gon, trying not to smirk. Smirking might get him more than what he was after. “Is that what you were looking for?” he asked. 

Qui-Gon took it and arched an eyebrow as he glanced in the drawer. “I don't know if I should be flattered or not.” 

Obi-Wan felt himself flush in embarrassment. The toy was one of the few he could find that was close enough to Qui-Gon himself. The man was frustratingly well endowed and completely proportional to his height, which was normally amazing when Obi-Wan had him physically in bed with him. Trying to find a replacement when he wanted to get off? Near impossible and extremely frustrating. He didn't want Qui-Gon to get the wrong idea, which would be the right one, and grabbed his arm to pull him firmly onto the bed. 

“Teasing results in you getting kicked out,” he warned. 

“I would never tease,” Qui-Gon said. 

“You would and have,” Obi-Wan said instantly. “But that's just who you are.” 

Qui-Gon paused before leaning down the few inches between them and kissing him. There was no fire, no all-consuming passion, just the subtle sweetness that used to be there during the mornings or in the absent spaces between cups of tea. Obi-Wan felt his eyes close of their own accord as he reached up and cupped Qui-Gon's face, kissing him just as sweetly and gently. This, right here, as Qui-Gon blanketed his body with his, and the kisses that made his heart swell and hurt: this was what he missed the most. Part of him wanted to rage at the unfairness of having it now, of having these touches when Qui-Gon was inevitably going to leave him again, and yet he was also so grateful for the chance to have this one more time. One last time? Did it matter? 

No, it didn't. Not really. They were Jedi, after all, and nothing could ever be taken for granted. 

“I hate you,” Obi-Wan whispered as Qui-Gon broke the kiss to pepper tiny kisses along his cheek and jaw and neck. “You complete bastard. You come back here and, and. You're going to break my heart again, aren't you?” 

Qui-Gon nuzzled his ear. “I will only go if you tell me to.” 

“Pretty words,” Obi-Wan said, sliding his hands over Qui-Gon's back. “You have a silver tongue, Jinn. Why should I believe a word you say?” 

“You don't trust my words?” Qui-Gon asked, setting the bottle aside to run both hands over Obi-Wan’s sides. Obi-Wan squirmed as Qui-Gon brushed over his ribs lightly, ticklish, before moving down to caress his thighs before sweeping up to grip his knees. “What could I do to convince you?” 

_Stay. Don't go. Don't be so_ you! All the things he wanted to say stayed behind his teeth as he smiled and brushed a finger over the corner of Qui-Gon’s eyes. “You can't,” he said instead. 

Qui-Gon’s eyes narrowed at him and he could barely comprehend what was happening before he was being kissed as if he were the only being in existence and a large hand was wrapping around his cock. He gasped into the kiss, grabbing at the back of Qui-Gon's head for an anchor in the storm, and arched against him. It had been so long since someone had touched him. He'd tried to forget the idiot, he had! But he couldn't. Some part of him, some very vicious part, swore that if Qui-Gon tried to leave him again that Obi-Wan would do terribly unspeakable things to him. 

He lost track of time between the kiss and the dry hand before it became a _slick_ hand and he groaned. It felt good, letting go and letting someone else focus on him instead, and he tried to gather his words. Yes, he had Qui-Gon with him and that meant things. Meant that he could touch and taste and, and...and he was going to. Once the bastard stopped touching him. His spine was sizzling and he felt overly warm and, and--no. He wanted to touch more than just Qui-Gon's blasted hair. 

“Stop... distracting me,” he panted, shoving at Qui-Gon’s shoulder. The older man pulled away, an odd look on his face, before Obi-Wan rolled them over and grinned down at him. “Better,” he said as he settled in Qui-Gon's lap. 

He licked his lips and leaned down to brush a kiss against the other’s throat, hesitating for a moment before nipping lightly and beginning to suck a mark near the hollow of his throat. A hand settled against the small of his back as he coaxed noises from Qui-Gon, acutely aware of the other's erection pressing against his thigh. Qui-Gon was bigger than he remembered, thicker too, and a thrilled shiver worked its way through him. He ran his hands over Qui-Gon's chest, the pads of his fingers light and teasing, before following the same path with his nails just to feel the other arch against him and hear him cry out. He slid down his body, eyes on those blue-blue eyes, as he lowered his mouth to a pebbled nipple. 

“Ben,” Qui-Gon whispered, sounding wrecked as he gripped the covers under him. 

Obi-Wan rubbed slowly at the skin around the nipple he didn't have in his mouth, taunting, as he worked his tongue around the sensitive flesh. He pulled away and idly blew air over the wet flesh. “You can touch,” he said. He couldn't name the emotion over Qui-Gon remembering how much he'd hated being grabbed and shoved in bed, yet right now that was all he wanted. He needed, craved, proof that he was as under Qui-Gon's skin as the other was under his. 

He bent down again and teasingly scraped his teeth over Qui-Gon's nipple. A curse, and a hand was in his hair, gripping tight, holding him there. Obi-Wan opened his mouth wider and gave a quick, sharp bite before soothing the flesh with his tongue, a smug feeling curling through him. He pinched and rolled the other nipple, receiving a grunt and a tightening of the hand in his hair for his troubles, before he was being shoved down. Oh? Was playtime over? 

He glanced up at Qui-Gon as he slid down, hands running over the other’s stomach and abdomen. He rather liked having Qui-Gon at his mercy like this, the other man letting him decide how the night would go. That wasn’t to say Qui-Gon hadn’t let him have his say in the past, more that, perhaps, Obi-Wan hadn’t quite cared what their nights held because he was a fool in love. So long as he had Qui-Gon with him who cared? Sure, he would suggest this or that but largely he went with whatever the other wanted. 

Not so much right now. Right now? Obi-Wan was the one with the want. 

He wrapped a hand around Qui-Gon’s cock as he moved down the other’s body, leaving kisses and sucking marks as he went, stroking him slowly. He had an idea and he was reasonably sure Qui-Gon would be on board for it. He hoped he would be, at least. He was not above admitting how desperate he was for the other man’s cock, his hands, his mouth. He wanted it all, now, in some sort of order and somehow. He wasn't used to _wanting._

“Ben, no, I won't--” Qui-Gon started when Obi-Wan finally slid low enough to be able to place a teasing kiss at the head of his cock. 

“Don't worry,” Obi-Wan said as he leaned down to nuzzle and kiss at Qui-Gon's inner thigh. “I have plans for you.” 

“Oh you do, do you?” Qui-Gon asked. “You feel like telling me what those plans might be?” 

Obi-Wan glanced at him, consideringly, and licked slowly along the large vein in Qui-Gon’s cock before taking the head in his mouth. He flicked his tongue along the slit, licking away the salty precum, before pulling back. “I’m going to ride you,” he said with a smug look. 

Qui-Gon swore before he reached down to drag Obi-Wan into his lap. He had to admit to losing the narrative as Qui-Gon kissed him, hunger and need and everything he had missed for _ten years_ , and fingers pressing slickly inside him. Words of encouragement breathed against desperate lips, as one finger became two became three became four because Obi-Wan remembered. He could play with toys as much as he liked but they weren’t Qui-Gon and he remembered, he did, their first first times. They had to learn each other, learn the give and take of the other’s bodies, know exactly how much time Obi-Wan’s body would need before being able to take everything Qui-Gon had to offer. 

They had made games out of it, in the early days, with toys of their own when they had nothing to do and nowhere to be and could luxuriate in the feel of each other. Now, though, Obi-Wan clutched at Qui-Gon’s shoulders and panted and gasped his way through the full feeling of slick and fingers and the burn of a stretch that felt _so good_. 

“Can stop, don’t have to--” Qui-Gon was murmuring against his shoulder as he pressed desperate kisses against the sweat-slick skin. 

“I _want_ ,” Obi-Wan moaned. He shifted up onto his knees and called the bottle of lube to his hand with the Force. “You want too, don’t you? You want to see me fall to pieces again, want to see me ride you until I can’t do anything except call your name.” 

The stabilizing hand on his hip tightened and slowly Qui-Gon pulled his fingers free and wiped them on the sheets, having shoved the blankets out of the way at some point. Qui-Gon pressed kisses against any bit of flesh he could, distracting him, as he poured lube into his hand and worked it along Qui-Gon’s erection. There was no such thing as too much lube, especially not once he shifted his hips and pressed down. 

Hands gripped his hips, helping to steady him, as he slowly took Qui-Gon inside him. He leaned forward, pulling Qui-Gon into a desperate kiss, needing him not to say anything right now but needing the touch, the connection, more than anything else. The feel of Qui-Gon was intoxicating as he started to move, the other’s hands shifting to touch his back, his face, his chest--Qui-Gon’s hands were restless. The Force was distracting as it pulsed and crackled around them and he didn’t care, just wanted this and nothing else, wanted to keep it forever and knew that wanting that made him a bad Jedi and yet he was also a man who had been in love, once upon a time, and he _wanted_ so much. 

“Qui,” he begged, not even knowing what he was begging for, his hands braced on the other’s chest, one over the man’s heart. He wanted this, needed this, as everything started to be too much and not enough and he was so, so, _so_! 

Qui-Gon pulled him into a messy kiss, their lips slipping and missing and still trying and needing. “C’mon, Ben, come for me, please, want to see--!” 

Obi-Wan growled, grabbing one of Qui-Gon’s hands off his hip and guided it to his cock. The two of them touched him, fingers working in tandem, as he moved. Qui-Gon buried his face in Obi-Wan’s neck, muffling his words, as Obi-Wan cried out wordlessly as he came. He could feel Qui-Gon still moving and moaned helplessly before the other swore as he came as well, clutching Obi-Wan close. 

“Stay,” Obi-Wan murmured, feeling exhausted and wrung out as Qui-Gon moved them into a better position for cuddling. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see...any of it. He wanted to cling to his ridiculous memories and pretend, even if for a moment, that Qui-Gon was back for good. 

Kisses, soft and gentle, sweet, pressed against his face. “For as long as you want me to,” Qui-Gon said. 

Obi-Wan pressed close, heedless of the mess, and let himself relax into the gentle touches Qui-Gon swept across his body. Hoping he would still be there in the morning, although he wouldn’t be surprised if the other wasn’t. They were Jedi, after all, weren’t they? They weren’t allowed to want. 

= 

_Three months later_ … 

“Hm, sapir or red leaf?” Qui-Gon asked, poking around the kitchen. 

“Pepper tea,” Obi-Wan said absently, not looking up from his datapad. “I refuse to drink your nasty grass tea unless I have to.” 

“Brewed _properly_ sapir is a wonderful tea,” Qui-Gon argued. “It can have a variety of flavor notes, which you well know, including floral and nutty, or buttery and sweet.” 

“Or bitter and grassy, or like I licked the floor of Yoda’s rooms,” Obi-Wan muttered. “I’ll stick to my blacks.” 

“How is it that I love someone with such unrefined tea preferences?” Qui-Gon sighed dramatically as he prepared two separate pots. 

“Because I prefer the caff content,” Obi-Wan said with a frown. Wait a moment. He set his datapad aside and looked up at Qui-Gon. “Hang on, what are you still doing here?” 

Qui-Gon paused in the act of pouring hot water over the leaves in one of the pots. “I’m sorry?” 

“You,” Obi-Wan said with a frown. “It’s been…” He counted back the time and tilted his head to the side, startled. “You’ve been here three months. You hate Coruscant. Your previous record was two weeks and now you’ve been here, in Temple, for three months. Why?” 

“You asked me to stay,” Qui-Gon said as he resumed preparing the tea. “You hardly leave, which I understand, so I am also staying. If you want to accept a mission and run off somewhere with me you need only say the word.” 

“My job is largely administrative,” Obi-Wan said, still frowning. “You already know that Mace and I make sure the Order runs as well as it can.” 

“Reinstate Yoda to the Council, that would give you both some breathing room,” Qui-Gon suggested. 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. “Even if anyone wanted to give him that power again, which we don’t, he’s quite happy with the crechelings.” 

“Well, we’ll figure it out,” Qui-Gon said. “You’ve been making noises about having to visit the other Temples and putting the fear of you into them. That will just have to suffice. Until then I’ve been looking at taking up some teaching rotations.” 

“You hate teaching,” Obi-Wan accused, suspicious. 

“Be that as it may,” Qui-Gon said, handing him a full teapot and a cup before sitting opposite him at the counter. “You asked me to stay, Ben. I’m going to do my best to fulfill that wish.” 

Obi-Wan set the pot and cup down and stared at him. “You…?” 

“I told you, I made a mistake. I am trying to rectify it, if you’ll let me,” Qui-Gon said with a small smile as he began pouring his own tea. It did smell floral and just slightly nutty. 

Obi-Wan looked down at his pot and hesitated before pouring a cup of pepper tea. He hadn’t expected Qui-Gon to stay, not when he’d asked that first night, but Qui-Gon had. He’d practically moved into Obi-Wan’s rooms at this point, creeping back into his life almost while his back was turned. Mace had been looking unaccountably smug lately, which probably meant he’d seen this coming a mile away, and even Quinlan had given him a once-over and a satisfied nod the last time they’d sparred. 

He hated to think what any of that meant. 

He took a sip of his tea, burning the tip of his tongue and wincing. He set the cup down and picked up his datapad before clearing his throat. “Yes, well. Don’t go changing everything about yourself just for me,” he said. “Who would I argue with if you become so, so...amenable to all of my whims?” 

Qui-Gon’s quiet chuckle filled him with a squirmy-sense of delight in his stomach and he couldn’t help but feel lighter than he had in a decade. 


End file.
